


How You Ruin Me

by spiralicious



Series: How You Ruin Me Universe [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Age Difference, Crossdressing, Domestic, Estranged Brothers, M/M, Non-Hunting Alternate Universe, season one era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-04 11:22:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3065987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiralicious/pseuds/spiralicious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bobby and Sam are having a quiet evening at home when an unexpected guest arrives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pink Lemonade

Sam Winchester had lived a very unremarkable life. Well, as unremarkable as someone who was raised by their older brother, Dean, because their mother had died in a house fire when he was six months old and their father had become an oblivious drunk thereafter. Life went on as life does until it became impossible to ignore that little Sammy liked boys and to wear girl’s clothes on occasion. Dear Dean had done his best to keep the peace, but as these things do, it all came to a head one night when Sam was seventeen years old. His father gave him an ultimatum; he either stop cross-dressing and liking boys or leave. Sam left.

He did surprisingly well for a drop out with no money until his travels brought him to Sioux Falls, South Dakota two years later. He had managed to get a job waiting tables at a local diner. It worked out well, even if he still hadn’t found a place to live and the manager was letting him sleep in the back office, until one evening when some idiot decided to try and rob the place. 

Now, Sam wasn’t a slouch when it came to defending himself. He’d had an extraordinary amount of practice at it, but the only patron in the diner that night sent the would-be robber limping away, before Sam had a chance to do so. The patron’s name was Bobby Singer. When the local papers later asked him why he put himself in danger like that, his only reply was that he couldn’t let anything happen to the only idgit in that place that ever got his order right.

Sam was rather smitten and a few months later he’d convinced Bobby to return the sentiment. 

It wasn’t long before he was living and working at the Singer Salvage yard. They were a couple like any other. Bobby worked in the salvage yard. Sam kept the place reasonably clean and forced Bobby’s business practices into the twenty first century, as long as Sam was running the computer anyway. They argued over the health food Sam tried to force Bobby to eat and the pink lemonade that was the only thing Bobby would drink. Sam was fairly certain Bobby was spiking the stuff since he’d hidden the harder stuff on the advice of Bobby’s doctor. Bobby was fairly certain Sam didn’t have a clue as he kept letting him drink the stuff anyway. The evenings were spent quietly with only the noise from the TV or the whirring of Sam’s sewing machine to be heard, as long as they weren’t yelling or fucking, but that could be said of any couple. 

There were of course some locals who had a problem with them. Some found that not only a gay couple, but one with a thirty three year age difference to be rather scandalous. But after three years, most tempers had cooled and people had learned to deal with the couple peacefully, even if some still couldn’t help, but subtly express their distaste. 

The local sheriff thought they were adorable. Actually, what she said was that they were disgusting adorable, but Sam ignored the first part and Bobby rolled his eyes at him when Sam looked at him like a box of puppies over it. 

And there our tale begins.

“What the hell is this, Sam?” Bobby poked an offensive green object on his plate that seemed to overtake his meal. 

“It’s called asparagus. Just eat it.” Sam was hemming a dress he’d made earlier that morning to fit his tall lanky frame. During business hours it was flannel, jeans, and t-shirts, but nights and weekends his wardrobe had more variety. Honestly, Bobby would have let Sam wear any damn thing he wanted, whenever he wanted, but Sam had insisted it would make the customers more at ease, even if he was just answering the phones or working on the computer most of the time. 

“Asparagus? Isn’t it bad enough you are making me eat a cold turkey burger by myself?”

“You’re the one that came in to eat dinner two hours late.” Sam went to get the pitcher of pink lemonade from the fridge, before Bobby had a chance to set his empty his empty glass on the table. 

“I suppose I should just be grateful you got off the tofu kick.” Bobby bit into a stalk of asparagus violently. 

“Would it make you feel better if I told you there was beer in the fridge?”

Bobby paused. “You brought home beer?” He was delighted and slightly worried.

“There is a River Monsters marathon on tonight… and I fixed the TV in the bedroom.”

“Did ya now?” Bobby was now more than delighted. 

The moment was unfortunately ruined by a knock at the door.

“Who the hell could that be at this time of night?” Bobby made his way to the door, making sure he had his shot gun, before opening the door. Sam thought he was a paranoid bastard, but he liked that and it came in handy. 

On the other side of the door, stood a tall young man in his mid-twenties. “Uh, hi. Look, I know it’s late, but my car broke down about two miles down the road…”

Bobby sighed. “Yeah, I’ll tow you in. What am I looking for?”

“A black 67 Impala.”

Sam moved towards the door thinking he was hearing a familiar voice. The “67 Impala” comment confirmed who it was, before he even got there. “Dean?”

“Sammy?” Dean looked shocked and a little relieved. 

Sam continued his wide-eyed stare a few moments, before narrowing his eyes. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“What the hell am I doing here? What the hell are you doing here? Do know how long I’ve been looking for you? You fell off the damn grid. I didn’t know what happened…” Dean’s amazement and relief at finally finding his brother, and by accident at that, was quickly replaced with all the worry and anger he’d been harboring the last five years.

Sam retreated into the house. Dean started to follow, but Bobby blocked him. “I ain’t a mind reader, but I got a feeling he don’t want to talk to you right now. If you back off now, I’ll still give you a tow into town, but if you walk into my house, I’m in my rights to put a load of buckshot in you.”

Dean paused. He was angry and confused, but at least he knew where Sam was hiding out. He could try again later. He gritted his teeth. “Do you even know who I am?”

“You’re his brother and you’ve got about five seconds, before that offer for a tow is off the table.” 

Dean relented without a fight, as much as he wanted to just run in and grab Sammy, and take him home.

“Excuse me.” Bobby pulled the door closed as he turned to get his coat, never putting his shot gun down. He backed his way towards Sam. Dean watched from the crack in the door.

“Hey, I’ll be right back,” Bobby told the younger man softly. He leaned in to give him a gentle kiss. Under these circumstances, he might not normally have done so, but if the terrified look on Sam’s face was any indication, he might not still be there when he got back. Bobby would never have forgiven himself if he didn’t take his last chance.

Dean didn’t know what to do with what he had seen. The two men walked in silence to the tow truck. Bobby still had his shot gun handy.

Back at the house, Sam stood in the kitchen until he heard the tow truck grind its way out of the gravel driveway. He suddenly sprang into action, grabbing a backpack and shoving all his treasured possessions that would fit and food frantically from around the house. His only pause was the one he took to look back as he walked out the door.


	2. You Talk About a Lot of Stuff in Three Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby tows Dean and the Impala back to his motel.

The drive to the Impala was made in a weighty, angry silence. The hookup had gone much the same way and the drive to town didn’t look like it was going to be any different. It was going to be a long drive anyway, so, Bobby made a feeble attempt at small talk. “A ‘67 Impala, huh?”

“It was my dad’s.” Dean looked ahead, nodding a little. 

“Ah.” Bobby closed his mouth in a tight line. 

“…So, who the hell are you?” The younger man finally looked directly at Bobby and stared accusingly. 

“The guy giving you a tow into town,” Bobby barked back.

“That guy got a name?”

“Everybody’s got a name.”

“Dude, I saw you kissing my baby brother and you seem to know who I am. You owe me a name.” Dean punctuated his statement by stabbing at the dash of the truck with his finger.

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Bobby, since you have to know so bad.”

“Well, Bobby, what the hell are you doing, kissing my brother?”

“Now, that is none of your business.”

“Hey, when it comes to Sam, everything’s my business!”

“Raise your voice in my truck again, boy, and I’m pushing you out of it while it’s still moving.” Bobby looked at his passenger a moment. “Besides, as far as I can tell, Sam doesn’t seem to consider it your business.”

Dean huffed as he really couldn’t argue with that and he was fairly certain this Bobby guy was serious about pushing him out of the truck. “So, how did you meet my brother anyway? It’s not like he’s good with a wrench.”

“He was working at a diner in town for a while and he has learned a few things.” Not that Bobby was going to let Sam work on anything unsupervised anytime soon or that Sam had any interest in doing so. 

“So you just take the boy from the local diner home with you for the night or something?” Dean actually did kind of want to hear that is was a random one time hook up, but from what little other information he had, it was doubtful.

Bobby blinked a few times. It was more or less what had happened when you got right down to it. “Uh, yeah, kinda.” He had lost a touch of his bravado.

“Then how the hell did you know who I was?”

“You talk about a lot of stuff in three years.” 

“Three…? But you just said…”

“Yeah, but he just kinda never left.” Bobby found it to be a little embarrassing, but really Sam had come home with him for what was supposed to be a one night stand and just never decided to leave. Frankly, they both liked it that way.

Dean shook his head a bit. This was becoming more information than he could wrap his head around. 

The rest of the ride to Dean’s motel was made in silence. 

Bobby came home to an empty house as predicted. He got a beer from the fridge and sat at his desk in the dark, refusing to let himself think about anything for now. Surprisingly, he was barely halfway through his second beer, before he heard the side door open. Sam walked in, looking weary, shaken, and hollow. He walked towards Bobby, dropping his backpack on the way. Bobby gladly accepted him when he sat on his lap. Sam buried his face in the crook of Bobby’s neck and Bobby just held him there, thankful he came home. 

After a few moments of holding each other, Bobby murmured against Sam’s neck that it was getting late and they should head upstairs. He added a swat to the ass for good measure. With an arm wrapped tightly around his Sam, the two made their way upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for pinking, Kira!


	3. He Wasn't What I Expected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby takes Sam out for breakfast.

The next morning Sam tried to stretch, but was hindered by a tight arm around his waist and a naked Bobby pressed up against his bareback. The older man was snoring softly on his shoulder. Sam thought he should be a little insulted that he was that concerned he’d run out in the night, but it felt nice, like he belonged. He squirmed around to face Bobby and threaded his fingers through the man’s thinning auburn hair until he stirred. 

“You know, I am going to have to kick you out of bed if I am going to get the sheets changed before breakfast.”

Bobby groaned. “Let’s go into town today.”

“But it’s a work day.” Sam smiled.

“Only if I say it is.” Bobby rolled on top of Sam and kissed him playfully.

“But what on earth will people do without you?” Sam replied with mock concern.

“There’s a two dollar a bag book sale at the thrift store where you get to bring your own bag today. Do you want to go or do you want to be a smart ass and stay here to answer the phones?”

“I think the big canvas bags are in the laundry room.”

“Shower?”

Sam smirked. “With you? Always.”

“Yeah? You wait until I’m some old duffer with a hunched back and no teeth and see how you feel about it,” Bobby retorted as he dragged Sam to the bathroom.

“No teeth has its advantages you know,” was the last thing that could be heard, before the water came on.

After the shower, Bobby busied himself with changing the sheets, before Sam could get to them. The younger man tried to argue with him about doing it, but Bobby’s stubbornness won out. Sam could only sigh and start to get dressed. He stretched a thin pink woman’s yoga tank with an elaborate om symbol on it over his frame and threw on some jeans. He made quite a sight crawling around on the floor, looking for his favorite platform flip flops. He was fairly certain Bobby took the time to hide them in the back of the closet so he could watch him look for them. The fact that Bobby was paused mid pulling on his grey t-shirt, staring, when he emerged only strengthened his argument. 

“Like what you see?”

“I don’t know why the hell you think you need to be any taller,” Bobby responded gruffly while he finished dressing. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “So what do you want for breakfast?”

“To go out.”

Now, Sam knew something was up. “Bobby what are you up to?”

“Can’t a guy take his… Can’t I just take you for a day out and around town without you getting all analytical on me?” They were not really good at labels.

Sam decided to back off since it was obvious that Bobby was going out of his way to give him a nice day out. “Let’s go to the place with the waffles with the strawberries and whipped cream on them.”

“Sounds good to me.” Bobby grinned and ushered Sam towards the door. 

They paused to put on their coats and Bobby mentally noted that he’d never cared that Sam liked to wear women’s clothing, but he wondered when he stopped caring that he seemed to be living with a hippy. 

Unbeknownst to the happy couple, Dean had managed to fix up his baby in the hotel parking lot and was having breakfast at the very diner they walked into. The mechanic spotted them first and kept out of view as he watched them sit down. He had been trying to figure out his next move to see Sam. After five years, he had been beginning to doubt if he ever would find his brother. Now that he had, he just couldn’t up and leave, but clearly that Bobby person was not to be taken lightly. He would have to do some recon. 

They took a booth that was in a spot Dean could watch from behind his newspaper. He listened to their conversation. Sam ordered waffles with strawberries and whipped cream while Bobby ordered a heart attack on a plate, for which Sam was currently glaring at him.

“A few pieces of bacon every once in a while ain’t gonna kill me, Sam.”

“Bobby, the doctor said…”

“To take it easy. I was there too, Sam.”

Sam huffed and put on a bitch face of epic proportions.

Bobby sighed and leaned in close. “If you’re that concerned about it, you can help me work it off later.” His face was a bit pink.

Dean really hoped he misheard that. 

Sam played with his napkin a minute, before working up the nerve to ask what happened last night. 

Bobby played with his coffee cup. “It was just a tow, Sam. I picked up his car and dropped it, and him, at a cheap hotel. End of story. He wasn’t what I was expecting though.”

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno. I mean I had this image in my head of this…” Bobby waved his hand a bit. “Asshole that helped drive you away. I mean they never call. You barely talk about either of them unless you’re in the middle of some kind of episode. Seriously, you were pretty damn young when I met you and had been on your own awhile already. And last night, I meet this cocky punk that clearly gives a damn about you.”

Sam set his jaw and looked away.

“Look, kid. You don’t ever have to tell me anything, but I don’t think he’s going away and I think I got some kind of a right to know why I might end up shooting some guy for breaking into my house in the middle of the night.” It was almost a joke. Bobby lightly cupped Sam’s hand in his own. It was a big move for him in public. 

Sam looked around in a pained and morose expression. It was something he had a talent for. 

Bobby sighed. “Sam, I don’t know if he’s had some kind of Dr. Phil epiphany and got over whatever his hang up was about you or if he wants or needs something, but he’s definitely got some bug up his butt when it comes to you. I’ll do or be… whatever it is you need me to be in this, but you’re going to have to talk to him if you want to get rid of him.”

Sam groaned and thudded his head onto the table.


	4. Can't a Guy Work on a Surprise Once in a While?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean spies on Bobby while Sam has an appointment.

Dean stabbed at his eggs. He was just lost. None of this made any sense. Okay, Sam liked guys, whatever, he knew that, but what the hell was this? His baby brother should be out partying, not playing house with Hillbilly Ray over there. Wasn’t the point of dating an older guy to get pampered, nice cars to drive, a pool… not that Dean had ever given any of that a thought. And what kind of name was Bobby for a guy that age anyway? He shuddered once again when he remembered the earlier innuendo and the realization that they did in fact have some kind of sex life. And who was Geezer McGee over there to accuse him of anything? _Just a tow my ass, that cranky old bastard wanted to shoot me._ After holding his baby brother hostage for three years, he should be doing the shooting, not some baby brother stealing jackass.

Bobby’s and Sam’s food came while Dean hadn’t been paying attention. The appearance of strawberries and whipped cream, as well as playing keep away with the salt from Bobby, was enough to distract Sam from his pity party for the moment. 

By the time Bobby paid for breakfast, Sam was in a fairly agreeable mood. Dean scrambled after them at a respectable distance, confused as they were not heading toward Bobby’s pick up.

“Come on, you got an appointment.” Bobby tried to usher the younger man forward, avoiding holding hands or putting an arm around him, which it looked like he was itching to do. 

“An appointment?” Sam was obviously perplexed.

“Yeah, I called Sharon’s and told them we were coming into town and had them make an appointment for you to… do whatever it is you do there.”

Sam smiled slyly. “Oh? You aren’t going to visit Nhung Phượng?”

“That was your idea, you know.”

Sam laughed. “One time, I asked you to get your feet done because they were frightening and peeling the skin off my legs at night. I didn’t tell you to go every other month and…” 

“Shhh, keep your voice down.” Bobby looked around, embarrassed, and resituated his hat as they kept walking down the street. 

“So what are you going to do while I do frilly things?” Sam asked, amused, using Bobby’s name for the things Sam did that had anything to do with cross-dressing.

“Can’t a guy work on a surprise once in a while?”

“You are full of surprises today.”

“Just behave for a change and I’ll pick you for the book sale in a bit.”

“Fine, be all cryptic.” Sam smirked and dove in for a quick sloppy peck on the cheek. “See you later,” he shouted as he sprinted into the salon.

Bobby froze and fidgeted uncomfortably, both loving and hating it when Sam did things like that. He looked around, trying to assess how many people had seen exactly. Content that no one seemed to be staring in disgust, he cleared his throat and started walking down the street.

Dean followed. He’d been trailing Bobby for five blocks now. There seemed to be no end in sight and the old geezer was going at a pretty good clip. “Well, at least you found yourself a live one, Sammy,” Dean said under his breath as they turned yet another corner. It was like the guy was trying to cover where he was going or something. When Bobby finally stopped and went inside someplace, Dean realized they were at a pawn shop. He went in after Bobby and listened to his conversation with the owner.

“I called yesterday about… something I saw last week.” It was hard for Bobby to say what he was there for.

“Oh, you’re that guy. Yeah, I set it aside like I promised. A little weird for a guy like you to be buying.”

“Hey, if my money’s not green enough, I can spend it elsewhere.”

The store owner held up his hands. “Hey, I’m just trying to be conversational here. No need to get cranky.”

“Kid, if I wanted to get personal, dontcha think I’d have gone to a regular jewelry store?”

“Fair enough.” The man got something from the back and brought it out to Bobby. Dean couldn’t see what it was. “Now, will that be cash or cash?”

“Funny.” Bobby sat a roll of bills held together with a rubber band on the counter. 

Dean’s mind whirled at full tilt. _Just what the hell kind of surprise you got cooking for my Sam, old man?_ What would he be buying for Sam at a pawn shop that he could get a jewelry store? And why is he all nervous and weird? _I bet that cranky jackass is buying something for someone else. He’s probably got twinks on the side all over town, the sly bastard._ Dean was so distracted by his mental ranting, he almost missed Bobby leaving the shop. 

They took pretty much the same path back to the beauty shop that they’d left it, only at double time. Dean was scrambling to keep up and thought he’d lost Bobby twice. 

When they got there, Sam was already sitting out front. He practically bounded up to greet Bobby. The two of them looked like they wanted to wrap themselves around each other, but Sam respected Bobby’s need for space in public. He’d already made peace with most of Bobby’s hang ups years ago. The young man was practically glowing though. 

“See?” Sam held up his foot to show off his new pedicure. Little bells jingled as he moved, hidden by his pant leg. They had been undoubtedly purchased from the cheesy little jewelry counter in the salon, most of which would have been more at home in the ‘80s or on a belly dancer. 

Bobby smiled as he looked at his Sam’s freshly pampered feet with little jewels on his big toes, ignoring the tinkling bells. “So what do you call that color?”

“DJ Play That Song,” Sam replied with pride. 

Bobby snorted. “They can’t just call it ‘purple’ or something?”

“Nope.” Sam smirked and shook his head, hopping Bobby would notice the glitter spray in his hair.

“Hey, what’s that?” Bobby asked, indicating the bag in Sam’s hand.

“You know that stuff that makes my hair really soft and smell like you like?”

“Uh, yeah.” Bobby cleared his throat and replied sheepishly.

“That… plus a couple other things.” Sam started walking towards the truck, before anything else could be said about it.

“What kind of other things… and are you wearing glitter?”

“You are not the only one with secrets, Bobby Singer!”

And the race to the truck was on.

Dean didn't know what the big hurry was, but he knew he'd better get his ass in gear too or he'd lose them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DJ Plays That Song is an actual nail color by Essie Cosmetics.


	5. They Bickered Like a Bitchy Old Married Couple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean spies on Sam and Bobby at the book sale and learns more than he bargained on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for taking so long to add to this. Please enjoy!

Dean was beginning to wonder if he had been drugged at some point. 

He was able to follow them in the Impala quite easily. Once Bobby’s pickup parked in the thrift store parking lot, Dean circled around to park a couple of blocks away and walk over. He had assumed finding them wound be easy, they were both rather distinctive looking, but the place was beyond packed. The main hub of activity was around a group of tables covered in books. Dean walked over, deciding it seemed the best place to start and sure enough, there was his brother, crouching on the floor using his long limbs to examine books in boxes under the tables otherwise blocked by the other patrons surrounding them. Bobby stood by with a canvas bag, which was filling up quickly. Dean watched, pretending to browse in the section marked romance, while his little brother awkwardly maneuvered his large frame around the floor checking under all the tables. Bobby followed behind carrying the book bags Sam was filling. He was also clearly protecting Sam from being accidentally run over by unobservant patrons. Dean was a little touched by that and angered by it at the same time. He should be the one protecting Sammy. 

Once Sam seemed to be done examining the difficult to reach books, he backed up and tried to stand. Dean started to rush over when Sam started to topple while trying to get upright, but Bobby caught him and helped him right himself. The two men shared a look that made Dean uncomfortable and then got into the serpentine like line that was weaving around the tables as people hunted for books. Dean did his damnedest to get close enough to hear them, but not be seen by them. 

They started in computers and technology.

“Damn it, Sam. I don’t need books; I have you to run the damned things.”

Sam glared at Bobby as he put various “for dummies” books about computer programs, the internet, and eBay into a bag. 

The Cookbook section was a bit more interesting. Dean had never seen anyone look at so many books so carefully at such a speed as Sam was shoving them into a bag right then, not that Dean had watched many people buy books. There was even a small tug of war between Sam and an old woman over a book of Crockpot recipes. Bobby had to break it up, but had remained quiet during the section until Sam picked up some fish cookbook. 

“Sam, you have that one. It’s got that weird soup you made me eat in it that stunk up the house for three days.” Unbeknownst to Sam, Bobby hid that cookbook in one of the cars in the yard that very night. 

Dean was surprised they spent the amount of energy in the travel section they did. 

“Bobby, when are you really going to go back to Japan?”

“When are you going to Spain?” Bobby fired back defensively.

“We’re still getting the one on camping in Nevada.”

“Fine.”

For the next three sections – History, Fiction, and Literature – Dean was treated to a repeated performance of one of the two men he was following picking up a book and the other reminding them that they already had a copy. It was a bit nauseating as it screamed of coupledom and was hitting him over the head with it. Their next real argument, if you could call it that, wasn’t until the how-to section when Sam found the gardening books.

“You’re going to start a garden?”

“What’s wrong with starting a garden?”

“Where the hell are you going to put a garden?”

“There is actual yard space you know.”

“But what about Rumsfield?”

“What about him?”

“Where is he going to go?”

“You keep him chained up by the house, in the house, or he’s roaming the scrap yard! It’s not like I am going to take up the entire yard, Bobby. Just a small area for vegetables.”

“Vegetables?”

“What did you think I was going to grow?”

Dean had to stop listening for his own sanity, but he did gather they had a dog, at least he hoped it was a dog. He was about to sneak out when he heard Bobby grousing again.

“Really, Sam?”

Sam just shrugged and tossed a couple books with happy 50’s housewives and one with a woman in a wedding dress on the cover into one of their overstuffed bags. 

Dean snuck out while they were paying at the counter. 

He sat in his car, waiting for Bobby and Sam to come out, so he could follow them to where they were headed next. There was a lot of information for him to digest. His brother wasn’t just shacking up with some old guy, he’d built some kind of weird version of an apple pie life for himself. They bickered like a bitchy old married couple. Sam cooked. They had a dog. Sam planned on starting a garden. There was a book with a bride on it in their stuff. And Dean wouldn’t have had a clue about any of it if his car hadn’t broken down. It just wasn’t right. 

Bobby and Sam soon emerged from the thrift store and got into the pickup. Dean was in pursuit as they left the parking lot.


	6. Sam, I Think We Might Need to Talk About This Coupon Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean continues his surveillance and Bobby and Sam go grocery shopping.

Their next stop was a grocery store. Dean gave them plenty of time to make it into the store and start shopping, before he followed them. They had only gotten as far as the carts and they were already arguing when he found them. 

“That’s one hell of a list, Sam.”

“The pantry’s bare, Bobby, and they’re having a canned and bulked food sale. And I have the calculator and the coupons.” Sam waved his well-used envelope stuffed with coupons and it had a card of some sort sticking out of it.

“What’s that thing?”

“Our store card.”

“We have a store card?”

“It gives us more coupons.”

“Sam, I think we might need to talk about this coupon thing.”

“Bobby, coupons are a good thing and it’s not like I’m ordering them in bulk or organizing them in a binder or something like those nuts on TV.”

“You gave me the stink eye for four days when I accidently threw out the paper last week.”

“You built a doomsday bunker. A doomsday bunker, whose shelves are stocked because of my couponing by the way. When I top building a doomsday bunker, we’ll discuss it. And the coupons in that paper would have made toilet paper come out to twenty seven cents a roll.”

“I had a free weekend. And the budget’s not that tight, Sam.” 

Dean watched as they continued their bickering all the way over to the bulk food bins from his hiding spot by the lottery ticket vending machine. He had trouble sneaking closer as there wasn’t much to block him from their view in that part of the store. Not that there was much to observe. Sam was busy carefully filling, weighing, and tagging bags of nuts, dried fruit, popcorn, oatmeal, and several unidentifiable powdered substances. Dean wondered when his brother became a hippy. And what little conversation there was, wasn’t difficult to hear. Bobby’s voice carried. 

“What’s that stuff?” Bobby pointed a bag of tiny black seeds.

“You’ve been eating them for three months. Don’t worry about it.”

“Sam…”

“What?” Sam didn’t see the problem as he knew that Bobby knew that he snuck healthy things into his food. 

Bobby sighed. “And people wonder why I’m paranoid.”

“Oh, you were paranoid long before I came around.” Sam bagged up some dried lentils. Bobby cringed and started pulling the cart toward produce to get it over with and Sam away from the bulk bins. Sam followed behind, getting the hint.

Dean was not far behind. At least in produce there was a salt water taffy display to conceal him. 

“So what do we need here?” Bobby asked gruffly.

“Grapes, bell peppers, broccoli, celery, green onions, and whatever you’re willing to eat without me sneaking it into your food.”

“Damn it, Sam.”

“I’m being more direct like you wanted.”

“I know that hospital visit weirded you out, but the doctor said I’m fine.”

“And he said that you need to take better care of yourself if you want to stay that way. Look, if you want me off your back about it, pick out two different fruits to eat this week.”

“You’ll shut your yap on the subject?”

“Until next time we go shopping.”

“Sam,” Bobby growled.

“Hey, I can do the shopping by myself.”

“And leave you unsupervised? Hell, no. Last time that happened, you came home with tofu.”

“But still under budget.” Sam smirked.

Bobby busied himself getting the produce Sam had asked for, letting Sam scribble down prices as part of his never ending pursuit in staying under budget. 

Without a word, Bobby steered the cart down the next aisle and Sam followed behind without looking up, like they were tied together with a string, leaving Dean to scramble after them.

“So what do we need down here?”

“Applesauce, fruit leather, prunes…”

“Really, prunes, Sam?”

Sam ignored him. “…Peanut butter, jam, honey, canned pumpkin…”

Bobby’s face brightened. “That mean I get pumpkin pancakes?”

“Maybe. Protein bars and coffee.” 

“Lemme guess. If I bring back applesauce and fruit leather without “no sugar added” on it and protein bars that aren’t high in fiber, you’re going to make me put them back?”

“But I will turn a blind eye if you bring back that strawberry jam that seems to be all high fructose corn syrup you love so much.” Sam tried to look as sweet as possible.

Bobby rolled his eyes and mumbled under his breath while he tackled his latest assigned task.

Sam proceeded to load the cart with bottled water, seltzer water, and sparkling water.

This did not go unnoticed by Bobby. “Sam, why are there three kinds of water in our cart when there is a perfectly good running sink at home?”

“It makes me feel better if you have water in the truck.”

“That much?”

“Okay, what if I only get half that much?”

“And take out the sparkling water.”

“Deal.”

Compromise made, they continued on.

“Where to next, Sam?”

“Refrigerated.”

Dean almost ran into a wine display, getting out of sight.

“Can you grab some eggs and string cheese from the other end while I grab stuff here?” Sam caught himself when he leaned in, before he actually kissed Bobby.

Bobby cleared his throat and rubbed his neck, slightly embarrassed by Sam’s near PDA. “Yeah, I’ll be right back. A dozen or eighteen count?”

Sam checked. “Coupon’s for the eighteen count.”

Bobby nodded and headed down the aisle.

Sam added hummus, low fat cottage cheese, and yogurt to their cart.

When Bobby returned, he eyed the yogurt unfavorably. “You’re going to make me drink smoothies again aren’t you?”

“You liked the smoothies. Besides yogurt has other good points.” 

“Like what?”

Sam scribbled something down on his grocery list and showed it to Bobby. The older man turned bright red, but added more yogurt to the cart.

“I’ll go stand in line at the meat counter if you go tackle the condiment and spices aisle.”

“What do we need?”

“Hot sauce, chili pepper, cinnamon, and vegan mayo.” Sam figured Bobby would be reasonably agreeable since everything on that part of the list was for him.

“What the hell is vegan mayo?”

“You have been eating it for two months and didn’t notice. It won’t kill you to just go with it.”

“There better be some beef on that shopping list of yours somewhere for what you put me through.”

“I know better than to deny you beef for long.”

Bobby took the cart and they went their separate directions. Dean was not sure who to follow, but ended up tailing Bobby.

The older man dutifully picked up his assigned items and circled back the meat counter without incident. Sam however, was still stuck waiting in line. 

“Want me to hit canned food?” Bobby was clearly lacking the patience to stand around in line.

“Yeah, please.” Sam handed him the list, knowing there was nothing left on it that should make Bobby balk too much or anything he’d have to check against a coupon.

Bobby made his way over to canned foods. Dean thought watching Bobby shop by himself was one of the most boring things ever. The way he managed to balance a case of canned tomatoes on the cart after filling the bottom wrack with several cases of beans without squishing anything was a bit impressive though. Bobby also seemed to be adding soups to the cart at random as he walked down the aisle and threw in some sardines as well as he turned the corner. 

It was clear that Bobby had just decided to finish the list off himself by the way he kept studying it and roaming the store in what seemed like a random roaming pattern. It was nothing at all like the well plotted out path they were following earlier. He added frozen berries, two rotisserie chickens, bread, and a bar of dark chocolate to the cart before circle back to meat. 

This time around, Sam was out of line, meat in hand. Bobby eyed the ground turkey and beef as it was added to the cart and was surprised by the addition of a large package of hot dogs.

“Hot dogs?”

“They’re for Rumsfield.”

“He gets hot dogs and you feed me soy dogs?”

“He didn’t collapse on top of me complaining of chest pains.”

Bobby quickly pushed the cart towards check out. 

Dean didn’t feel like watching them check out. He made his way out of the store to sit and wait in the Impala to see where they would go next. He quietly fumed and impatiently drummed the steering wheel, trying to make sense of what he’d been watching all day. It made no sense to him. What the hell could Sam see in that cranky old bastard anyway? He barely recognized his brother anymore. Sam had always been a worrier and a hoverer, but what was with all that health food crap? And the beauty shop? It was like his baby brother’s personality had been cranked up to eleven. What the hell had this Bobby guy done to him? Dean quickly decided that Sam must have “that Patty Hearst thing” as he followed Bobby’s pick up out of the grocery store parking lot. 

Unfortunately, the pickup was clearly headed out of town. Once Dean was certain it was headed back to the salvage yard, he pulled over and turned around. If he kept following, he knew he’d be noticed and he still hadn’t decided on how to contend with that dog he found out about.


	7. It Can Mean Whatever You Want It To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby and Sam finish up their day of shopping and Bobby's got a couple surprises for Sam.

At the salvage yard, Bobby and Sam unloaded their many bags from the grocery store and the book sale, as well as Sam’s special bag from the beauty shop. It took several trips and it had been a long day, so Sam was very happy to finally take off his shoes and jacket. He stretched and set about making an early dinner while Bobby went to go feed Rumsfield. But first, he’d have to figure out where they were going to put all that food. He set aside one of the rotisserie chickens and pulled out the leftover coleslaw. He also wrestled over the watermelon they bought to go with it. Satisfied that what he needed to make dinner was out of the way, Sam hunted through the groceries to find everything that needed to go in the fridge. He could always fill the pantry later. 

Rearranging the fridge kept Sam preoccupied enough that Bobby was able to sneak up on him and wrap his arms around him. Sam was a little startled, but leaned back into it.

“That was quick.” Sam put his hands over Bobby’s, holding them in place.

“When he’s really hungry, it don’t take long.” Bobby kissed and nuzzled Sam’s shoulder. He snuck his hand under Sam’s shirt and caressed his stomach in lazy circles.

Sam had wanted Bobby to touch him all day. He sighed contently, tipping his head back. He was well aware that Bobby’s hang ups about displays of affection also applied to private interactions as well, dictating what was acceptable in various rooms of the house. At the moment, he really wanted to push the boundaries of what was acceptable in the kitchen. 

Bobby had other ideas. “It was warm today.” He slid his fingers along the skin of Sam’s stomach above the waist band of his jeans. 

“Yeah.” Sam pushed his hips forward.

“A quick shower before dinner wouldn’t hurt anything.” 

“Nope.” Sam twisted around in Bobby’s grip to face him and kiss him deeply.

Bobby broke the kiss to grab Sam tightly by a belt loop and drag him towards the stairs. Sam happily went along with it. 

In the upstairs bathroom, Sam peeled off his tank top while Bobby turned on the water. Soon, Bobby was on him, pushing Sam against the sink. He kissed down the younger man’s chest, paying special attention to Sam’s belly button while he unfastened his jeans. Sam knocked off Bobby’s hat, refusing to be poked in the stomach with it until it fell off on its own, and carded his fingers through Bobby’s hair. Bobby kissed Sam’s hips and thighs as they were revealed while he slowly pulled his pants down. Sam was getting hard quickly. Bobby licked up the inside of his thighs. Sam tilted his head back. Bobby kissed the underside of Sam’s cock, making the younger man gasp. He was taking his time, savoring every tremble and soft moan he could draw out, teasing Sam until he was begging. Bobby finally took Sam into his mouth. He took in more with each bob of his head, stroking the rest of his length in his hand. It didn’t take long for it to be too much for Sam and he came in thick, hot bursts. Bobby drew out every last drop until Sam’s body went lax against the sink. 

Bobby stood. He held Sam and caressed his back while pressing kisses to his face and neck. Soon, Sam started kissing back and started undressing Bobby. 

They were a tangle of bare limbs and hot mouths when they made it under the spray of the shower. Each of them explored the expanse of skin before them that they had come to know so well, like it was the first time, until the water ran cold, forcing them out of the shower. 

Bobby watched Sam carefully dry off his long lean body and wondered why the hell Sam was even with him, but was happy to have him just the same, while he dressed. 

Sam pulled on a light blue night gown that reached his mid calves. It was one of his favorites because of the way it seemed to float when he moved. 

“Come on.” Sam kissed Bobby. “Let’s go have dinner.” He took Bobby’s hand and they went downstairs. 

In the kitchen, everything sat where it had been left before their impromptu pre-dinner shower. Sam busied himself finishing putting away groceries in the fridge while Bobby started putting away food in the cupboards and pantry. The two of them made quick work of it. Soon, Sam was cutting up watermelon and dishing up chicken and coleslaw. Bobby brought the bags of books into the office to clear space for them to sit and eat. 

The last thing left to be put away was Sam’s bag of goodies from the salon. Bobby picked it up to take it upstairs when he noticed there was a rolled up magazine of some kind in it. He took it out to take a look and immediately threw it on the table like it was going to bite him. 

“Sam, what is that?”

“What’s what?” Sam asked as he brought dinner to the dining table. 

“That.” Bobby pointed and waved his hand at the offending catalogue.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Marney at the salon does those ‘Passion Party’ things, kind of like adult Tupperware parties. She keeps a few catalogues at the salon.” He turned to get glasses and the pitcher of Bobby’s Lemonade.

“But what the hell are you doing with it?”

“She knew I’ve been trying to find you a birthday present.” Sam tried to finish setting the table. 

“What the hell have you been telling those crazy women at the salon that would make her think I’d want something from there?”

Sam sighed and walked over. He picked up the catalog and flipped to a dog eared page. “Look at the Post-It note.” He stood next to Bobby so he could see it.

“These should straighten him out.” Bobby read out loud.

“They’re little gel pads you heat up for giving back rubs.” Sam jammed his thumb in that spot on Bobby’s back that was perpetually sore and stiff, causing Bobby to groan. “It seemed like a good idea.” Sam sat down at the table.

Bobby joined him. “Oh.”

They ate in silence.

When they were done with dinner, Sam got up to take the dishes to the sink but Bobby stopped him. “It’s my turn to do the dishes.” He got up and brought the dishes to the sink for him. 

“…Thanks.” Sam sat back down, unsure what to do with himself. His birthday surprise for Bobby had been ruined and he had managed to upset Bobby. He really hadn’t thought he’d overact that badly if he found the catalogue. When no solution immediately sprang to mind, he got up to get the crossword puzzle he’d been working on the night before and brought it over to the table to work on. He hoped he’d come up with something before bed.

By the time Bobby was done with the dishes, Sam was completely engrossed in his crossword puzzle. He barely noticed Bobby sit down next to him, nor did he look up when Bobby took his left hand and started rubbing it. It felt nice, if a little odd. He chalked it up to being some form of apology. He turned to smile at Bobby when the older man pressed a kiss to his palm and something caught his eye. There was a ring on his left ring finger. “Bobby…?”

“Well, uh,” Bobby swallowed. His voice was low. He was clearly a little nervous. “You’ve been living here a while now. Hell, half the town thinks your name is Sam Singer. I just thought you should have a ring or something.” He looked right at Sam now. “It can mean whatever you want it to.”

“Bobby.” Sam was looking at him like he was a box of puppies again. He climbed up into Bobby’s lap, straddling him, and kissed him deeply. 

Bobby held him there, having decided a long time ago that there are few things better in life than a lap full of Sam. 

Bobby Singer convinced Sam Winchester to go for an impromptu trip upstairs with him for the second time that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it has taken me so long to update. There were some editing issues I couldn't quite wrap my head around. I finally decided to just post this and the next three chapters as they are or I would never get anything posted. Thank you for sticking with me.


	8. Halfway Through the Second Six-Pack, They Were Still Talking About Pies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is trying, Sam thinks Dean is very trying, and Bobby is just trying to keep there from being a body count.

The next morning, Sam woke up curled around Bobby with the older man gently rubbing his ass. He was still riding his high of Bobby’s version of a proposal from the night before. Best of all, it was Saturday. A non-workday made for sleeping in. He carefully stretched, sore in all the right places, and looked at Bobby adoringly. 

“Morning sunshine,” Bobby said softly with an amused smile.

“Morning,” Sam murmured back and pressed a kiss to the side of Bobby’s mouth. 

They spent the rest of the morning entwined, exchanging lazy kisses with the promise of more later.

By the time they were able to tear away from each other long enough to get dressed, it was lunch time. Sam bounded downstairs in a pink knee length skirt with just a bit of twirl to it and a hot pink t-shirt that said “Drama Queen” across the front with a little crown. It was clearly too small. Bobby had gotten it for him as a joke, never dreaming Sam would actually wear it. Bobby followed close behind. 

He wrapped his arms around Sam once they reached the kitchen. Sam leaned back to kiss his temple.

“Tuna sandwiches for lunch?” Sam asked resting his head against Bobby’s. 

“We have chips?” It was obviously more of a negotiation term then a question. 

“We have pretzels.” Sam counter offered. 

Bobby grunted his consent and Sam laughed. “You know, I can’t make the sandwiches, if you don’t let go.” 

Bobby responded by burying his face in the crook of Sam’s neck.

“Rumsfeld is wandering the scrap yard and hungry. You get him taken care of and you’ll get to come back in to tasty sandwiches and beer.” 

The older man considered this a moment. “And pretzels?”

“And pretzels.” Sam assured him with another kiss. 

Bobby grunted again and let Sam go. He made his way to the side door a bit faster than Sam had seen him move in a while. He was yelling for Rumsfeld to get his “ornery butt back to the house” before he had even stepped outside. 

Sam chuckled and got busy mixing up tuna salad. He was just about to assemble the sandwiches when there was a knock at the front door. He hurried to answer it, thinking Bobby was feeling too lazy to walk around to the side door after chaining the dog up out front. “Bobby, it’s not that far…” 

Dean was standing on the other side of the door wearing one of his more convincing charming smiles, instead of Bobby.

“Hey, Sam.” Dean covered up his surprise at Sam’s outfit reasonably well.

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam’s scowl would have sent a lesser man back down the driveway. 

“Come on, Sam, it’s been five years. Don't you think you at least owe your brother a chat?” Dean’s tone was one of harmless naiveté. It might have worked on someone else. 

“Wasn’t stalking us yesterday enough?” Sam narrowed his eyes at his brother. 

“I wasn’t stalking you.” Dean was still trying his best at wide-eyed innocence and was failing. 

“The Impala is hardly inconspicuous, Dean.” Sam was suppressing an eye roll so hard, it was giving him a headache. 

“Then why didn’t you confront me?”

“We were kind of busy, you know running errands, spending time together, having a life.”

“Well, are you busy now?” Dean was trying, really, but he was more than a little exacerbated at his brother’s unwillingness to at least speak to him. 

“Actually, we were about to sit down to lunch.” Sam started to close the door in emphasis. 

“Great. What are we having?” Dean grinned widely, putting his hand on the door. 

“We,” Sam pointed between him and Dean, “are not having anything.”

Just then, Bobby walked up with Rumsfeld lead on a rope so he could hook him up to his chain on the tree out front. “You know, Sam, it’s not that hard to turn two tuna fish sandwiches into three.”

Dean eyed Rumsfeld, wondering if the old man was planning on feeding him to the dog later. Sam shot Bobby his fiercest bitch-face at the suggestion. 

Dean took Sam’s lack of retort as pissy resignation and walked past him into the house. The old man had basically invited him in. 

Sam stood glaring at Bobby while he finished chaining up and feeding Rumsfeld. The dog quickly took his spot on top of the hood of Bobby’s truck when he was done. 

Bobby sighed and walked up to the door. He put an arm around Sam and said softly, “Look, we already decided we aren’t going to be able to get rid of him until he says whatever it is he wants to say, so we might as well get it over with.”

Sam snorted and shrugged off Bobby’s arm before going inside.

It was going to be a long day. 

Bobby and Dean sat at the dining table witnessing Sam angrily assemble sandwiches. Dean had not been aware that someone could angrily assemble a sandwich. Bobby had offered to do it for him, but that had only resulted in more glaring and some grunting. Both Dean and Bobby jumped when plates slammed down in front of them. The sandwiches were stacked high with lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, onions, and random vegetables that Dean couldn’t readily identify. He also noticed that while his sandwich was sloppy and falling over, Bobby’s was neatly stacked and cut in half with toothpicks holding them together. The old man also had twice as many pretzels. 

When Sam turned to get drinks, Dean leaned in to whisper to Bobby, “What are the little black things?”

“Don’t ask.” Bobby took a big bite of his sandwich. 

Soon a beer appeared in front of Bobby and what appeared to be a tall glass of chocolate milk in front of Dean. One sip, however, informed him that something was amiss. He did his best to hide his grimace and smile for Sam, trying to keep things friendly. He had made it in the house after all.

Bobby shook his head and kept eating.

Sam sat down with his sandwich and a glass of ice water. He started eating immediately, apparently ignoring the other men at the table.

Dean took a big bite of his sandwich. It was a mistake. He bit into a mouth full of chopped hot peppers and was now certain his mouth was going to burn off.

“Oops. Sorry, I guess I was on auto pilot after I made Bobby’s sandwich.” Sam smirked. 

Dean coughed and took a big gulp of the sludge pretending to be chocolate milk in front of him. “It’s okay,” he coughed out. He kept chanting in his head that he needed to stay cool and not start something with Sam.

The rest of lunch was largely uneventful. Sam gave everyone the silent treatment. Dean choked down his inedible meal as best he could so as not to start something, as Sam clearly had intended him to. Bobby just acted like it was any other lunch and cleared the table when everyone was done before Sam could protest. 

The two brothers stared at each other in silence. Well, Sam stared. Dean tried to figure out how to start a conversation. The whole thing was confusing to start with. He knew Sam wore girl’s clothes when he could get away with it, but he really hadn’t been expecting what greeted him at the door or the beauty parlor the day before. Then there was the whole Bobby thing. He just couldn’t wrap his head around that. Part of him wanted to yell and beat the shit out of Sam for running off in the first place. He hadn’t stopped worrying the entire time Sam had been missing and the idea that Sam had built up this little life for himself without Dean, without even letting him know he was okay, just pissed him off more. He couldn’t lose it though. That Bobby guy was watching, though he had brought a newspaper back with him when he sat back down, and he was pretty sure he hadn’t been bluffing the other night about shooting him.

A plate of brownies caught his eye. At the very least it would give him something to do with his mouth while he tried to come up with a better game plan. Dean left the table and got one. He leaned against the counter and took a big bite. He was not sure what that was, but it sure as hell was not a brownie and Bobby was snickering at him from behind the newspaper. Dean decided that was a very bad sign and abandoned the brownie imposter. He sat back down. Still coming up empty, he drummed his fingers on the table. 

“So… Your hair has gotten longer.” It was the best conversation started Dean had come up with. 

“Yup.” Sam stared at Dean from across the table with his arms crossed.

“See you’re still doing the girl’s clothes thing.”

“Yes, Dean.” Sam sounded painfully annoyed.

“…Do you do the underwear too?”

“Dean!”

“What? It’s a valid question!” Dean truly was confused as to where he’d gone wrong. 

“The fuck it is!” Sam was standing now glaring down at Dean. Bobby reached over and rubbed the back of Sam’s hand in what was apparently a very calming gesture and got Sam to sit back down. Bobby also gave Dean a warning glare of his own. Dean took it seriously. 

Bobby took over the conversation in the hopes of getting it to go somewhere. “So what brings you out here anyway, Dean?”

“Was just taking a vacation.”

“A vacation?” Sam asked accusatorily. 

“I can take a vacation, Sam.” Dean snapped back. 

Sam snorted. “I’m surprised Dad was willing to let his shadow out of sight.”

“I don’t have to have Dad’s permission, Sam!” 

“But you do, Dean!” Sam taunted, not bothering to hide his smirk. 

“Damn it, Sam…”

“So what are you doing with yourself these days? Sam told me you’re a mechanic.” Bobby interrupted. He squeezed Sam’s hand as reminder that he was there, hoping to defuse the situation before they went after each other like a couple of alley cats.

Dean was a little surprised to hear that. He really shouldn’t have been after the tow the other night, but he was out of his element. They seemed to have all the information while Dean was left to navigate through the minefield without a map. “Yeah, I’m at the same place. They give me decent hours.”

“You still living with Dad?” Sam’s tone was still pissy, but it had lost some of its venom.

Dean took a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m still living with Dad.”

“You’re twenty-six.”

“So?” Dean challenged. 

“Wow, you must be dragging home a whole new level of slut to be okay with that little arrangement.”

“Sam, what the hell!”

“You know, I’m going to get us some beer. God knows, I could use one. Sam, help.” Bobby took Sam into the other room by the forearm, hoping some breathing room might help. Sam glared back at Dean until he was out of sight. 

Dean was itching to deck Bobby for manhandling his brother like that, not that Bobby was actually manhandling him, but he needed to hit something that wasn’t Sam. 

When they came back, Bobby was carrying a six pack in each hand, one of which he sat on the table. Sam sat back down, still looking huffy. Bobby was sitting closer to Sam than he had been before, almost protectively. 

He slid Dean a beer. “Here, drink up.” Bobby wasn’t sure booze was the best idea, but it’d end things one way or the other. He opened one for himself and took a long swig. 

Dean started drinking quickly. 

“So, when did Dad give you his car?”

“A few years ago.” Dean wasn’t sure why this felt like a dangerous question.

“I see.” Sam peered at him.

“What, Sam?” Dean couldn’t really read his brother’s expression, but he knew it was judgmental. 

“Nothing.”

“Seriously, Sammy.”

“It’s Sam.”

“Right.” Dean took deep breath and changed the direction of the conversation. “So what are you doing?”

Sam quirked an eyebrow, suspecting there was more to the question. “I do the office stuff here.”

“Okay.”

“What, Dean?” Sam was back to being defensive.

“It’s just not what I expected okay?” Dean shrugged. 

“What did you expect?”

“I don’t know. Damn it, Sam. It’s not like I had a clue what you were doing, where you were. Hell, I didn’t know if you were alive.” Dean didn’t mean to growl at his brother like that, but at least he’d refrained from shouting, barely. 

“Dad’s the one that told me not to come back, Dean.”

“You didn’t have to go!” Dean gave up on not shouting. 

“Really, Dean? Sure as hell didn’t seem like it!” Sam joined in with the shouting. 

“We could have figured something out!”

“We? You just stood there!”

“I didn’t know what to do!” Dean was standing now.

Bobby decided it was time for a breather. “I’ve been told you like pie.”

It was so random, it took Dean by surprise. “What?”

“Sam makes a strawberry-rhubarb pie that won a blue ribbon at the fair last year. There’s one in the fridge. Since you’re up, why don’t you get everyone a slice?” Bobby’s voice was slow and soft like he was coaxing a wild animal.

“Um, ok.” It was a just weird enough request for Dean to comply.

It was quiet while Dean hunted around the kitchen for what he needed to get a slice of pie for everyone. Bobby squeezed Sam’s shoulder, trying to get him to stop fuming. 

Dean felt weird serving his brother and his… Bobby, pie in their house. 

“So how long are you in town for?” Bobby asked once everyone was settled again.

“A few days.”

“Why are you here, Dean?” Sam picked at his pie. 

“I told you, Sam. I’m on a vacation.”

“In South Dakota?” He looked at his brother incredulously. 

“You ended up in South Dakota.” Dean said around a large bite of pie. 

“That wasn’t a vacation. That was hitchhiking.”

“Hitchhiking?” Dean was trying not to freak out.

“My car broke down in Colorado and it’s not like I could fix it.” Sam shrugged like it was the most obvious answer. 

“You know, things like that are why we tried to teach you…”

“I know, Dean!”

“Anyone special in your life, Dean?” Bobby had not wanted to ask the question, but he was running out of diversionary tactics. 

Dean cleared his throat. “Sorta,” he admitted.

“Really?” Sam was skeptical.

“You found someone.” Dean grumbled.

“I am adorable. You are a cheesy pick up artist.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Bobby was just happy the mood had lightened. 

“So you bake now too?”

“It won awards. Shut up.”

Halfway through the second six-pack, they were still talking about pies.

“So what other kind of pies do you make?”

“I dunno. I don’t really make a lot of pies.” Sam slid his foot up Bobby’s calf under the table. 

“So what the hell happened to those brownie looking things?” Dean pointed at them accusingly. 

“Nothing’s wrong with them.” Sam’s face crinkled in confusion. 

“Sam, I ate one. There is something wrong with them.”

“They’re carob.” Bobby chimed in. “He makes them for his Kombucha Society meetings to impress those nitwits.”

“They’re not nitwits.” Sam pouted and started drinking Bobby’s beer, his own having mysteriously having been drunk already. 

“Cumbocha Society?”

“Kombucha. It’s a fermented tea.” Bobby corrected.

“That’s not what they’re called anyway, Bobby.” Sam frowned. 

“Hey, all I know is you disappear once a month to meet with your weird little friends with something pretending to be food and you come back a couple hours later with recipes for more of it and books on yoga and gardening. I have to call it something and ‘those hippy freaks’ upset you.”

Sam huffed.

Bobby looked for another bottle of beer, but found only empties. “Come on, I hide the good stuff in the living room.”

Sam and Dean followed Bobby into the living room and both of them made themselves comfortable on the couch while Bobby got his bottle of whiskey from its not so secret hiding spot. 

Dean looked around. “When did you move in here anyway?”

Sam accepted the bottle from Bobby and took a long swig. “A couple years ago now.”

“A little longer than that.” Bobby added.

Dean nodded and took the bottle when Sam handed it to him. “So you work in the office, what else do you do?”

“Suck cock.”

Bobby and Dean both almost choked.

“I dunno. I do the happy housewife thing. Sometimes I take an odd job or something.”

It was more of an answer than Dean was expecting. Bobby took the bottle back and filled his cup before giving it back to the boys.

“What do you guys do for fun anyway?” Dean instantly regretted asking the question as he saw Sam taking a very long drink of whisky while stretching one of his long legs out to touch Bobby with it.

“Mostly we stay in. There’s a movie theater. You stalked us for a day,” Sam responded distractedly. 

“That was you two going out?”

“Pretty much.”

Dean took the bottle and realized he had missed a very important question. “That dog bite?”

“Damn better’d.” Bobby answered for Sam.

“You really find someone dumb enough to put up with you, Dean?” Sam took the bottle back.

“So far.”

Sam snorted, still not believing him.

“What the hell are you driving Sam, if your car is in Colorado somewhere?”

“The dodge usually runs. Sometimes I steal the pickup.”

Bobby snorted. 

Somewhere along the way, it had gotten late enough for sun to go down. 

“Bobby, where you going?” Sam asked as he watched the older man head for the stairs.

“Getting the sheets for the guest room.”

“Shouldn’t I do that?”

“Dude, have you seen yourself?” Dean asked and poked Sam’s exposed stomach. Sam’s large frame was no longer sitting on the couch so much as having sprawled across it and the floor and was slowly oozing downward. 

Sam swatted his hand away. “I should make you sleep on the couch.”

A few minutes later, Bobby came back downstairs and wrangled his Sam into an upright position. “We’re going to bed. Come on so I can show you where the guest room is.” Bobby left with Sam in tow expecting Dean to follow, which he did.


	9. It Was the Perfect Opportunity to Snoop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean learn a few things about each other and Dean does manual labor for pie.

Dean stood in the small guest room and sat on the bed. It was sparsely decorated with dark woods and rose patterned linens. He stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers as he went over the day’s events in his head. Things had not gone at all as he expected, not that he was sure what he had been expecting. He checked his phone before crawling into bed. There was one text message: _I saw a seagull swallow a hotdog whole today, it reminded me of you._

Dean snorted and turned out the light. 

The walls at the Singer house were very thin, Dean soon discovered as the quiet of the night gave out to the sound of bed springs. They were soon accompanied by moans undeniably made by his baby brother and low grunts having to belong to Bobby, not that he wanted to think about that. 

Dean was not sure if he was ever going to be able to sleep ever again. 

The early morning quiet was broken by the shrill ring of the Singer household phones. It took Dean a few moments to figure out where he was and what was going on. He’d been having a nice dream about fishing by the lake again, only this time he wasn’t alone. Damned phones. There was a lot of commotion coming from his brother and Bobby’s room after someone finally answered the damn thing. Dean cringed at the thought of it being their room. Last night went well, but that didn’t mean he was okay with all this. 

A moment later, he heard someone hurry downstairs and decided he should probably put his pants on and see what was up. 

What he was not expecting was Sam in the kitchen shirtless and wearing a pair of plaid drawstring pants that hung low and looked in danger of falling off. Dean wanted to yell at Sam to go put on some clothes, but it seemed kind of pointless considering Sam was already fucking the dirty old man upstairs. 

Sam was pouring coffee into an insulated cup with a lid. Luckily, he’d remember to set the coffee pot last night. He got out Bobby’s lunchbox and threw in some bottles of water, string cheese, and a container of homemade trail mix. Bobby shouldn’t be gone that long, but you never knew with emergency tow calls. Besides, it made Sam feel better. 

“Uh, hey Sammy, what’s going on?” Dean asked sleepily from the doorway. 

Sam hadn’t heard Dean come down the stairs and was a little startled. “An emergency tow call from the sheriff’s office. Some car went over the bank.”

“Oh.” Dean didn’t have anything to say to that and watched Sam pop some sort of breakfast sandwich in the microwave. “What’s that?”

“Turkey sausage and a wheat muffin so, Bobby can have something to eat before he goes.”

Dean thought that was both sweet and gross, until he realized he thought it was sweet, then it was just gross. 

Bobby came down just then, dressed and ready for work. He snaked an arm around Sam and gave him his good morning kiss like Dean wasn’t even there.

They spoke in low tones Dean couldn’t hear, moving towards the front door. Sam made sure Bobby had his lunch pail, coffee, and his coat. The early morning making him that much fussier.

Bobby said that both brothers better be alive when he got back and gave Sam a goodbye kiss. He added in whispered tones, “But if you do kill him, you know where the keys to the bobcat are right?”

Sam snorted and Bobby gave him another kiss before disappearing out the door.

Dean was ready to gouge his eyes out. 

Sam pulled on a hot pink sweatshirt with the word geek in giant letters on the front that was hanging by the door and started trying to slip on some shoes.

“Where are you going?”

“Got to feed the dog,” Sam replied with a yawn and disappeared out the door.

Dean was at a little bit of a loss, but there was coffee. He went over to pour himself a cup. On the counter were the supplies to make pancakes. He hadn’t seen Sam get those out. He didn’t know why there was canned pumpkin or a few of the other things, but Dean had recently learned how to make pancakes. It wasn’t a great accomplishment given his age, but he figured the least he could do was to be able to make his… friend breakfast before he left in the morning on the occasion he actually chanced staying the entire night. After a year and a half, the whole thing was still a big secret and it ate at Dean. The only thing he’d been able to come up with to try to appease his guilt and desperately beg his… friend to stick with him was good morning head and pancakes. He didn’t know if was working, but it didn’t seem to be hurting.

Sam came in scrubbing his face with his hand and trying to flatten his unruly bed head. 

“Hey Sammy, what’s with the pancake stuff?”

“It’s Sam. I was going to make Bobby a real breakfast when he got back. Wait, how did you know it’s for pancakes?” He stared at his brother. 

“I know how to make pancakes.” Dean replied defensively.

“Since when do you know how to cook anything that doesn’t involve lighter fluid?”

“I used to make you breakfast and dinner all the time.”

“Name one of those meals that didn’t come from a can or a box.” Sam snarked back. 

“You weren’t complaining!”

Sam raised his hands in submission. It was too early for this shit. “So you learned how to make pancakes huh? Must be some girl you found.”

“Uh, yeah.” Dean suddenly couldn’t look at Sam. If he’d been more awake, Sam would have noticed.

“Look, I am going to take a shower. Stay out of stuff.”

“You don’t trust your own brother?” Dean raised his hand to his chest in mock hurt. 

“I mean it, Dean!” Sam gave Dean a pissy glare before heading back upstairs.

Dean waited for the sound of a slamming door. It was the perfect opportunity to snoop. 

He beelined for the office. It seemed the most appropriate place to start, especially given that he probably didn’t have much time. The office was fairly large, but considering that it was the living room, that was to be expected. Dean had to admit, it was kinda nice. It was a bit dated, but clean. There was even a big window behind the couch. Old landscape paintings hung on the wall. A fancy rug that looked about worn out covered most of the floor. Hell, there was even a fireplace. He was fairly certain that neither of the men that currently lived in the house were the original decorators. Sam would have done something completely different, he was sure, and Bobby just did not seem like the decorating type. The main desk seemed to be the larger one in front of the fireplace. It was covered in books and papers with a large stack of mail. On one of the side walls was a smaller desk, very neatly organized with a laptop on it and a filing cabinet next to it. Dean assumed that was his brother’s main domain. The rest of the available wall space seemed to have various types of bookshelves that were over-stuffed with books. 

Dean decided to tackle the messy desk first. Most of the piles seemed largely uninteresting, part books, phone messages, random invoices, and few other random odds and ends that did not seem out of place. He hoped the mail held more promise. He flipped through it and mentally took note of what he found; utility bills, a plus sized women’s clothing catalog, _really?_ , coupons, junk, a letter from some guy named Rufus, _who the hell is Rufus? Someone on the side?_ , junk, an advertisement from a community college, _Did Sam ever go to school?_ , junk, something addressed to a Sam Singer and covered in puppy stickers, _Wait, Sam Singer? What the hell?_ , something with a grocery store return address, a ‘renew now’ notice from some magazine Dean had never heard of, another letter from the same grocery store, junk, something from an animal shelter, an outdoorsmen magazine of some kind, and Redbook. At least it had been somewhat educational. Dean laid the mail back on the desk, more or less how he found it.

He by passed Sam’s desk altogether, figuring he’d never be able to snoop through it without Sam being able to tell, and went straight for the filing cabinet. He opened the first drawer to find color coded insanity. Every file was in a colored folder that corresponded to what, Dean didn’t know and had big clear labels in his brother’s handwriting. If there was an order to the arrangement of the folders, Dean couldn’t figure it out. It just seemed random. He scanned the labels, knowing there was no way he’d be able to put anything back, if he were to pull a random one. Three labels caught his eye, “Divorce,” “Adoption,” and “Rufus.” Who got divorced, who was adopting what, and just who the hell was this Rufus guy?

He pulled and flipped through the divorce folder, using a finger to hold the place where the file went back. There wasn’t really much there, but there were divorce papers from 1987. Apparently, Bobby had been married to some woman named Karen. What was up with that?

The adoption folder was less forthcoming. It was just printouts from the computer about adoption and adult adoption. 

Dean didn’t dare look in the Rufus folder. There were just some things he didn’t want to know. 

What Dean didn’t see was anything labeled Singer’s Salvage. He tried the second drawer. In it were just a group of folders labeled A – Z. Dean pulled the “S” file and immediately wished he hadn’t. There was some kind of sex toy catalog in there and he sure as hell didn’t want to know why that was there. 

Sam could be heard coming back down the stairs. Dean quickly shut the file cabinet and went to greet Sam at the steps in an effort to look less suspicious. It didn’t work. Sam was giving him the stink eye the second Dean appeared. “What have you been up to?”

“Just looking around. That a crime?”

Sam rolled his eyes. 

Dean took in Sam’s outfit. His brother was wearing faded camo jeans with glittery flowers up one leg and his top looked like a giant scarf with fringe on the bottom. “What the hell are you wearing?”

“What do you mean?” Sam looked down at himself, fussing with his fringy-blanket-thing, checking to see if anything was amiss. 

“You wearing a blanket or something?”

Sam seemed incredibly put out. “It’s a kaftan tunic.”

“A what? Do you just poke your head through the top and hope there’s not a breeze or something?”

“It has sleeves.” Sam held up his arm to show that it was indeed sewn up the sides with arm holes. 

Dean was sure his brother was nuts. 

“And the old man likes when you dress like that?” Dean eyed his brother skeptically as he continued to descend the stairs. 

“Bobby doesn’t get a say in what I wear, Dean.” Sam was making his way to the kitchen. His older brother wasn’t far behind. 

“You mean to tell me he doesn’t have anything to say about what you wear?”

Sam started filling the sink with water to wash yesterday’s dishes. “No, Dean. He doesn’t say anything about what I choose to wear,” he looked thoughtful a moment, “… except when I wear short skirts.”

Dean did not want to know anything about his little brother in short skirts with that geezer. “So who bedazzled those pants?” He asked, hoping to change the subject while his brother washed the dishes.

“They are not bedazzled and they came this way.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, Dean.” Sam was more than a little annoyed and started wiping down the counters and the table. 

Dean watched as Sam flitted, well as much as someone of Sam’s size could flit, around the kitchen tidying up. “You were really serious about that happy housewife thing weren’t you?”

“Move Dean.” Sam swatted him with the broom. 

They danced around the room a bit, Dean not seeming to be able to stay out of Sam’s way. The younger brother sighed. “If you’re going to keep watching me, you might as well come outside.” He walked towards the door without further explanation. Dean followed, his curiosity being piqued. 

Sam walked around the house to what Dean assumed had once been the front yard. They stopped when they reached the side fence and Sam shoved a little wooden stake from off the porch into the ground. “I need here to,” he walked several paces parallel to the fence, “here cleared off.”

“What?”

“The hubcaps and crap there, need to be over there.” Sam pointed with emphasis the areas he meant. 

“And I am doing this because?” Dean arched an eyebrow and stood with his arms crossed. 

“You want more pie.” There was a bit of a challenge in Sam’s smirk 

“You’re trying to bribe me with pie?” Dean snorted. 

“I’m trying to get my garden area cleared.”

“Garden?”

“Yes, Dean.” Sam didn’t bother to hide his annoyance. 

“What else do I get?”

Sam sighed. “I’ll answer five questions.”

“Five questions?”

“That’s why you’re hanging around right, to pry into my life? I’m giving you an opening in exchange for manual labor.” Sam looked smugger than Dean would have liked.

“Alright.” Dean picked up a tire and moved it while he thought of a good plan of attack. “What’s with the Suzy homemaker bit?”

“I like taking care of the house and Bobby. Besides, somebody’s got to.” Sam shrugged.

It wasn’t the answer Dean was expecting, exactly, nor was it as informative as he would have liked. He thought harder as he cleared more debris. He needed his questions to count.

“Have you stopped wearing men’s clothes altogether?” Dean tried to sound casual. 

“What the hell, Dean?”

“Hey, in the last three days, I’ve seen you in a pink girl’s tank top, a pink dress, and that,” Dean pointed. “It’s a valid question!”

Sam fumed a few moments. “I still wear men’s clothing, Dean, just mostly on work days.”

At least that was a straightforward answer. He cleared a little more yard space. “So the old guy.”

“Bobby. His name is Bobby.” Sam crossed his arms. 

“Right, whatever, Bobby. So uh, what exactly are his intentions towards you?”

“What are his intentions towards me? What the hell is this? The nineteenth century?” Sam arched an eyebrow at his brother. 

“You know what I mean!” Dean flung a hubcap the general direct Sam had told him to. 

“We live together.”

“I can see that,” Dean snarked. 

Sam nervously played with the ring on his finger. It’s not like he and Bobby were good at labels. “Well, last night when we were having sex, I didn't care if I got off. I was just holding up my hand behind his head so I could look at my new ring. I think he knew.”

“Ew! What the hell, Sam? How does that …ring?” Dean looked at Sam’s hands. There it was. A ring on Sam’s left ring finger. It even looked like a man’s wedding band. How the hell had he not noticed before? “So you two are like gay married?”

“You really want to use that as one of your questions?” Sam challenged. 

“You got any friends here, besides the gee…Bobby?” Dean smiled hoping to cover his flub. 

“Smooth, Dean. Since when have you cared if I had friends?”

“Sammy!” The “you wound me” was implied by his tone. Dean flung some more debris out of the way. 

“It’s Sam. And yes I have friends.”

“I’m talking about the kind that are your own age.”

Sam grit his teeth. “What does it matter how old they are?”

“So, no.” Dean went back to clearing.

“There’s this girl that works at the animal shelter and goes to my Sunrise meetings I’m friends with. Most of the people I meet with at the Sunrise meetings are young. I still talk with a couple of the waitresses from the diner. There are the girls from the beauty shop. I go to a book club. I do have a life, Dean! I go out. I do things. It’s not like Bobby keeps me locked in the house all day and never lets me out of his sight!” Sam threw his hands up in exasperation. 

“You could have fooled me! He seems to know every damn move you make.” Dean flung a hubcap with a grunt. 

“We live together and we’re in a relationship! What about that girl you’re supposedly with? Don’t you have a general idea what she does during the day or is your regular booty call what passes for a relationship for you?” It was more of an accusation then a question. 

Dean really wanted to hit him, badly. “It’s not some damn regular booty call, Sam! We don’t live together, so at least we’ve got some damn privacy, but we still talk every day and that doesn’t make it less… important than this, this thing you’ve got going with the grumpy hillbilly!”

Sam blinked. “You actually talk every day?”

Dean did not like the softening look his brother was giving him. “This isn’t about me, Sam!”

“That’s so cute.”

“Shut up! And I thought you were going to make me a pie?” Dean snarled.

“You done asking questions?” Sam smirked. 

“Hell, yes.”

“If you insist.” Sam shrugged and headed towards the house.

Dean wasn’t sure how his brother managed to change everything around, but it was damn sneaky. “It better be apple!”

Sam Winchester made his way back towards the house. That had been every bit as uncomfortable as he was expecting. It really could have been worse. He knew that. If he was being honest with himself, he got off easy and all it was going to really cost him was a pie. Figuring out what kind of pie he actually had the ingredients for was going to be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a Pinterest board where I save the inspirations for Sam's outfits. Let me know in the comments if you would like me to link it in the notes somewhere.


	10. Dean, I’m Going to Go Get Ready, Don’t Touch Anything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A challenge has been made.

Bobby welcomed the familiar sound of the earth crunching in the driveway. It had been a long morning and he was glad to be home. He made his way out of the truck and up the steps. The smell of pie baking tickled his nose and led him to the kitchen. There was Sam fussing away in one of his ridiculous outfits and his apron. It was black with a ruffle on the bottom and a small pocket in the middle made of black material with white poke-a-dots and a big white bow to the side. It had been one of the first things Sam made after he got the old sewing machine running. The whole sight was one Bobby felt was worth coming home to. 

He walked up to Sam and wrapped his arms around him. Sam greeted him with a smile, both of them pretending for the moment that it was a normal Sunday afternoon and that they did not have an essentially unwelcome houseguest. 

After an indulgent welcome home kiss, Bobby broke the illusion and asked, “So where is your brother?”

“Clearing space in the front yard.”

“Why?” Bobby wore a look of complete confusion.

“To clear space for my garden.” Sam dusted off and hung his apron.

“Out of the kindness of his heart, I take it?” He sat at the dinner table, taking off his boots.

“He likes pie.” Sam shrugged like he didn’t have a clue. 

Bobby went to hang up his coat and looked out the window to check on Dean. He still didn’t trust the boy. 

Dean was working in the yard with his shirt off, back towards the window. “Sam, why does your brother have the bat signal on his ass?”

“He has what?”

Sam bounded out the door moments later. His cover story was that he needed to tell Dean the pie was about ready. Really, he was confirming the sighting he and Bobby made from the window.

Dean turned towards the noise. His brother’s grin made him uneasy. It was never anything good when that look was directed at you. “What, Sam?”

“Nothing. Pie’s almost ready.” Sam looked way too smug for it to be nothing, but Dean didn’t have a clue what his brother was up to. He turned to pick up his shirt and pull it back over his head.

“So why do you have a batman tramp stamp?” Sam’s face split into an impish grin.

Dean froze. He’d forgotten all about that. “It’s not a tramp stamp.”

“Only in your diluted head.”

“I lost a bet, okay?” That was Dean’s story and he was sticking to it. He finished putting his shirt on and marched on into the house, Sam following behind, chuckling. 

What Dean failed to realize was that “almost ready” meant out of the oven, but too hot to eat and that Sam was going to make him wait. He sat at the dining table staring at the pie on the counter as though he could will it to himself. He also kept making sure his lower back was fully covered in the chair he was sitting in. It so was not a tramp stamp, he reassured himself. 

Sam was busy lovingly arranging food on a plate for Bobby. He’d decided that it was too close to lunch to bother with the pancakes, so Sam started making lunches. When Dean could tear his eyes away from the pie, he watched his brother. Sam carefully filled half a plate with an assortment of raw vegetables. The other half had an unwrapped string cheese, slices of summer sausage, watermelon, and some kind of pasta leftovers from the fridge. Dean continued to watch in silence as Sam walked the plate and a glass of pink lemonade to the office where Bobby was looking at the mail. 

“So, Samantha, do I get a giant plate of vegetables for lunch too?” Dean asked as Sam walked back into the kitchen.

“I thought you were waiting for pie.” Sam was putting his apron back on. 

“Well, since you are so into being the good hostess and all, and I am your brother you haven’t seen in five years, I would have thought you would have wanted to make me lunch.” 

Sam rolled his eyes and opened the fridge. “We have leftover taco filling, eggs, and baked beans. What do you want?”

“Does the taco filling come with a tortilla to wrap around it?”

Sam all, but growled, “It can.”

“Taco me, Sammy!”

“It’s Sam.” He set about reheating the taco filling and some tortillas. “I’m guessing no lettuce or avocados.”

“Ew, no.” Dean crinkled his nose in disgust. 

Soon, Dean was greeted with a plate with three tacos on it. The first thing he noticed was that the tortillas were brown. The meat looked a little funny too and there were vegetables cooked into it. There was no cheese, but there was a big dollop of sour cream. Dean dug in. Something was very wrong with the taco. To start with, that was not sour cream. Dean didn’t know what it was, but it definitely was not sour cream. He also had doubts that the meat had ever been, well, meat. The texture was just weird and it tasted like seasoned cardboard. 

Sam sat down at the table with a large bowl and a whole rotisserie chicken that also came out of the fridge. He glared at Dean, daring his older brother to say anything. 

“What are you doing now?” Dean said around a bite of ‘not taco.’ 

“Why do you care, Dean?” Sam proceeded to tear meat from the chicken and put it in a bowl.

“Because we’re family, Sam. I’m just trying to be part of your life here.”

Sam glared at his brother incredulously. “Seriously, Dean…”

“Hey Sam, You got some mail in here!” Bobby yelled from the other room. Whether it was to interrupt the fight or a coincidence, the brothers would never know. 

Sam looked at his chicken covered fingers and the mostly unpicked chicken. “Read it to me?”

“You got a couple of magazines, uh looks like some coupons. I thought you weren’t ordering coupons?” Bobby’s voice was half accusatory, half incredulous. 

“I’m not. Sometimes we get some in the mail because of the store card or because I filled out a survey or something.” Sam went back to picking chicken.

There was a pause. “Looks like a card from the kids at the school. It’s got puppy stickers all over it.”

“Yeah? Open it.” Sam perked up a bit and that and unconsciously leaned a bit more towards the door while he listened. 

“Dear Mr. Sam, Thank you so much for reading to us. We really liked it when the little puppy got some friends. Come back to read to us. Annie. It looks like the rest of the kids tried to sign it. It’s mostly scribbles and puppies.”

“You read to little kids?” Dean’s face contorted. The overly domestic nature of the situation was once again getting to him. Add to that his brother had become some kind of saint that reads to small children and volunteers at an animal shelter. 

Sam’s face fell. “Sometimes. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. It’s just… I dunno. So you got to be the mother Teresa of drag too?” Dean snapped back peevishly. 

Sam refused to respond to that and went back to his chicken.

“Sam, it looks like they finally got your last paychecks to the right address too. I’m going to put everything on your desk.” Bobby bellowed from the other room. 

“Finally! Thanks, Bobby.” Sam shouted back. 

“Paychecks?” Dean was confused.

“I told you I work odd jobs.” What little patience Sam had towards his brother was clearly fizzling. 

Dean supposed that would have to be answer enough. 

Sam finished with the chicken and went to wash up. “Chicken salad going to be ok for dinner, Bobby or you want something else?”

“You going to put grapes in it?”

Sam moved to where he could actually see Bobby in the office. “Do you want grapes in it?”

Bobby looked up at him mid paper shuffle. “Just don’t put anything weird in it.”

“Right. Anything else you want me to leave out for dinner?” Sam stood in the doorway, drying his hands a bit more thoroughly than necessary. 

“I think I can manage, Sam.” The eyeroll was audible, even if Bobby didn’t physically do it. 

Sam crossed his arms and leaned in the doorway, settling in for an obviously common argument. “I know you can manage. That’s not the point.”

“Since when are grapes not weird?” Dean interjected, undoubtedly feeling left out. 

“Who asked you?” Bobby responded.

“Fruit, chicken, and mayo, it’s just weird.”

“That’s because you don’t eat real food, Dean.” Sam insisted.

“This is real food?” Dean pointed at his tacos.

“It doesn’t matter anyway because you aren’t staying for dinner.” Sam lightly smacked him in the head with his towel as he walked back to the kitchen counter. 

“What do you mean, Sammy?”

“I will be going to my Sunshine Society meeting, you will be going to your hotel room.” Sam rummaged in the nearby silverware drawer. 

“Sunshine Society?”

“The Kombucha people,” Bobby clarified from the other room. 

“Come on, Sam. We’re just getting to know each other again and you’re sending me away?”

“Yup.” Sam took the pie off the counter and slid it towards his brother. “Now hurry up and eat your pie. It’s a long trip back to town.”

Dean poked at his pie, trying to figure out his next move. He couldn’t get sent away now, who knows if Sam would ever let him in again. To buy him some time to think, he ate his pie as slowly as possible, which was nearly impossible. It was damn good pie.

“What’s wrong with the pie?” Sam groused from where he was assembling the ingredients for chicken salad.

“Nothing’s wrong with it!” Dean seemed almost offended, like he had been the one to make the pie.

“Then why aren’t you eating it?”

“I was thinking.”

Sam looked at him squarely in the face. “That explains the smoke.” And went back to his bowl of chicken salad. 

“Funny.” Dean thought a minute. “So how often do you go to these things?”

“Once a month, sometimes we meet more to do other things.”

“So what do you do?” Bobby’s hippy freaks comment earlier and the name Sunshine Society gave Dean nothing do go on.

“What do you care?” Sam was obviously more than a little agitated and Dean was beginning to wonder if he should be interrogating Sam while he had a kitchen knife in his hand. 

“I told you, I want to get to know you, be a part of your life again.”

Sam turned to look at Dean. “Wow. What ever happened to no chick flick moments?”

“Sam, you’re wearing bedazzled pants and a frilly apron,” Dean pointed out helpfully. 

“You’re not going to stop pestering me and go away are you?” He didn’t wait for a response. “How about a bet? You survive my Sunshine Society meeting and you can stay here for the rest of your so-called vacation.”

Never one to turn down a challenge, Dean’s interest was piqued. “So, you’re telling me that if I survive a night with the hippy freaks, eating fake food and singing kumbaya, you’ll let me stay here? What happens if I don’t?”

“You go back to your hotel room and forget you found where I am.” Sam waved his hand the general direction of the road while he spoke. 

“Deal.” Dean ate his pie like it was trying to get away from him. 

Bobby who had overheard the conversation from his office wanted to smack both of them. 

Sam continued to make dinner and snacks enough to feed three Bobbys while Dean observed. The whole situation was still confusing for the older Winchester, but he was confident he would get to the bottom of it. 

“Dean, I’m going to go get ready. Don’t touch anything.” Sam quickly turned to go upstairs before Dean could object properly. He now had an urge to lick all the silverware. 

After what seemed like an eternity, Sam bounded down the stairs. In Dean’s opinion, his brother’s outfits just kept getting weirder. The younger Winchester’s large frame was now draped loose gauzy pants that had a roll of material at the top and a draw string. He’d paired it with a tank top with the cosmos on it. At least that is what Sam said, Dean thought it looked like someone’s acid trip had thrown up on it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for pinking, Kira!


End file.
